


Waiting for That Day

by awfullynotsorry



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, British Actor RPF, Freebatch - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1895 words. Would you look at that?, Freebatch - Freeform, Idiots in Love, Just Having Fun with Freebatch, Killing Me Softly With His Song, M/M, Not real, RPF, only fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:58:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awfullynotsorry/pseuds/awfullynotsorry
Summary: This takes place on New Year's Eve. Ben & Martin haven't been talking. But the New Year brings hope, right?
Relationships: Benedict Cumberbatch/Martin Freeman
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	Waiting for That Day

**Author's Note:**

> Martin & Ben have things to say to each other but being British blokes seems to be getting in the way. They suffer from the stiff-upper-lip syndrome. Here's what happens when they try to fight the symptom. 
> 
> Wrote this whilst listening to Killing Me Softly With His Song. Incredibly sentimental. Not sorry at all.

**December 31st, 2019**

Martin awoke to a phone ringing, his kip interrupted. This was how most of his days started anyhow, with a distant sound coming to him through his dreams. Picking the phone from the place where it was on the bed, not looking at the caller ID, he answers, with his sleepy and quite groggy voice, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Without all of his brain working, Martin would still be able to recognize that deep baritone voice anywhere, anytime. _Ben_. “Hey.”

“Yeah, you said that.” That voice, again. _The_ voice, a voice he hadn’t heard in months.

Not knowing what to say, Martin tried to start articulating, “I, um…”

Benedict immediately took a deep breath and added, “Honestly, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

Martin thought about how honesty is always the best policy and decided to respond accordingly, “To be honest, if I had known it was you, I don’t think I would have.”

“Fair enough.” He heard Ben clear his throat and that’s all it took to want to pursue the discussion.

Pinching his nose, taking a deep breath, Martin finally articulates, “What can I do for you, Ben?”

There is a long silence at the end of the line and it’s only because he can hear Ben breathe that Martin knows he’s still there. “Can we meet? I can’t do this over the phone.”

Martin, looking for the right words to politely decline, couldn’t say no right away, “Um…”

“Just, please…” That voice, again. Pleading. Deep.

Martin couldn’t say no, found that he didn’t even want to, “Yeah, okay. When?”

“I can be at yours in five. 10 if I stop for wine.” That was a nod to their tradition; to wine and long evenings spent talking about everything and nothing at once.

Martin thought about wine and about the fact that he would need it if he was about to see the guy who quite literally ‘broke his heart’, “10 minutes it is. I guess I’ll see you soon then.”

  
“Yeah,” another clearing of Ben’s throat and “See you soon.”

* * *

Settled on the sofa, with each a bit of wine going through their veins, Martin couldn’t stop looking at Benedict. He still looked the same, he still looked amazing. He still looked like someone he loved very much, and that was dangerous territory.

Benedict finally looked at him, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Benedict looked away and took a sip, “Like I haven’t hurt you.”

Martin looked away and cleared his throat, feeling like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“I’m sorry.”

“You keep apologising, Ben. Truth is, I can’t be mad at you. I’m sad, disappointed, and yes, hurt. But I’m not mad.”

Ben looked at him, with his beautiful eyes and what looked like pity, “You should be.”

Martin kept eye contact, “Yeah, maybe. But I’m not,” Martin nodded, then added, “so, why the meeting?”

“I guess I needed to tell you… um…”

Martin could see how nervous Ben was, and at that moment, how sleep-deprived the man must be. Reassurance it is, then. Nodding as to himself, Martin leaned down a bit and put his hand on Ben’s thigh. “Breathe, Ben.”

Ben looked up at him in a heartbeat, and there it was, everything that he wanted to say, right in his eyes. Martin felt his throat fill with emotion. Seeing that, Ben apparently understood that it was time to speak or never say it out loud.

“Do you still love me?”

Martin actually recoiled, terrified of what his eyes would tell, “Why?”

“I just… I need to know.” Ben searched for Martin’s eyes, without success.

Taking a deep breath, Martin looked back at Ben, swallowed past the emotion in his throat, “Of course I do. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

Ben seemed relieved, “Okay. Good,” then Ben breathed and really looked at Martin, right into his soul if you’d ask Martin, “I just… You said in an interview that the worst thing someone said to you was ‘I don’t love you’. That got to me. I feel like I should…”

Martin took a deep breath and knew he had to intervene. “Okay, stop that, now. Yes, it’s the worst thing I’ve been told, because the person who said that to me was the person I’ve loved the most in all of this stupid life. But I can’t go down that road again, Ben. I left my ex, I did everything I was supposed to, I made a spot for you. I finally told you how I really felt and you completely rejected me, not only as a lover but as a friend, too. I thought we’d at least still have that even if you didn’t love me the way I love you. But it’s okay. I’ve made my peace with that. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Ben looked away, defeated. “That’s where you’re wrong. It does matter.”

Martin took his head in his hands and allowed his hands to go through his hair, an old habit to soothe his nerves. “It never mattered to you. What changed?”

Ben had been looking at the floor for a long time until he looked up, “I had my reasons for being that mean to you... But I do love you. I never would have been such a dickhead if I didn’t.”

Martin looked at Ben, feeling his entire universe shifting. Hope is a dangerous thing. “Ben… You are exhausted and a bit drunk, and most importantly, married. You have a family. Just go home. Please don’t do this to me.”

Ben clenched his hands, breathed in and out, “I was afraid. I was afraid of not being the perfect family man. I was afraid of what our… what our relationship would look like. I was afraid for my career. Can’t you understand that?”

Martin, without wanting to be condescending, had to make his point, “I understand that, Ben, as I’ve told you many times. The difference is, as afraid as I was, you were always worth the risk to me.”

The look in Ben’s eyes, it was like his heart shattered into pieces. Martin saw the man break before his own eyes. Ben teared up and took a deep breath. “I left Olivia. When I met you. I left her. I’ve loved you from the very beginning too. But it was confusing. And I didn’t want to risk my career, my image. I’ve always wanted to have this kind of career. But I didn’t think it would cost me you. And our friendship. I miss you, more than you know. If I could, I’d go back and be a nobody.”

Martin had this way of delivering a sentence, meaning it like a compliment but sounding like an insult. “I can’t believe you, Ben. I want to, but I just can’t. And I think you’re a wonderful actor. You deserve your career. You truly do.”

Ben looked into Martin’s eyes, as if to make sure Martin meant his words. “I don’t even live with my wife. I moved out weeks ago. I didn’t reach out before because I wanted to be absolutely sure. I know what this entails, all of it, and I’m ready. The fact that it is New Year’s Eve urged me on. I don’t want to start another year unhappy. I don’t want to be without you. We’ve lost enough time because I was too stupid to realise. I want you, all of you. I am ready to accept the consequences. If my career suffers, then so be it.”

Martin had to make sure he heard that correctly. Words he had waited months to hear, eventually admitting to himself they’d never come, and here Ben was, saying those perfect words. Martin had to shut his eyes and pinch the top of his nose. _Was it even happening?_

Ben wasn’t sure if Martin had heard, “Martin. Are you… Did you hear what I just said?”

Martin didn’t move, didn’t even open his eyes. “I did. I just don’t know what to do with that.”

Ben had to do something, this sounded like the beginning of a no. He took Martin’s hand, intertwining his own fingers within Martin’s. His hand still felt familiar, like it had been made to fit into his own. “Please, tell me I’m not too late. Just that. I’ll do everything I can. Just, please.” If his throat caught on the last word, it was only because Martin was looking at their joined hands. Ben, still on the verge of tears, could have forgotten how to breathe at that moment.

Martin looked up into Ben’s eyes and smiled, actually smiled. A smile he had given him many times before, but behind this one, there was intent. “You’re not too late. But I do need time, to sort my head and make sure I want this. You’ve hurt me more than I thought possible, and as much as I want you, I need to make sure I’m not only saying yes so it’ll stop hurting. You get that?”

Ben let tears fall down his cheek, hiding his face. “I do.”

Martin being who he was, noticed immediately. He pulled Ben into a warm embrace. Feeling that body wrapped around him, he could only reminisce about all the times before when they’d done this. Martin smiled, knowing he wanted this, truly wanted Ben, still. “I love holding you. As tall as you are, when we hug, you make me feel like the biggest man in the universe. Like, I’m here to protect you from harm. I love that feeling. I love how it makes me feel as though I’m making you feel safe if that makes sense.”

Ben kept holding on to Martin. “You do, make me feel safe. Always did” and then added, “Do you remember how fast I used to fall asleep when you were there?”

Martin’s voice had a sensuality to it now, Martin could make Ben shiver with only words. “Yeah. Usually, my fingers in your hair or roaming on your back, that used to do it.”

Ben breathed in and was overwhelmed by Martin’s familiar scent. “I’m tired, Martin.”

“I know, love.” Just like that, Martin got up, breaking their embrace. “Come to bed. Just… I used to sleep so well when you were there, too.”

Ben got up and followed Martin’s lead. “Okay.”

* * *

Once in the bedroom, all seemed to go back to normal, like nobody had hurt anybody. They got into bed, Ben snuggled up against Martin’s body. Martin let his fingers roam on Ben’s back and just like two fools in love, who were properly exhausted, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When light crept into the bedroom, Martin opened his eyes to find six feet of Cumberbatch in his arms, still sleeping. Ben hadn’t moved, neither had Martin. Their bodies fit perfectly like that, and Martin wouldn’t have it any other way. Martin kissed Ben’s forehead slowly, not wanting to wake him from his much-needed rest. He looked at him, remembering everything that happened between them through the years. Martin had only fond memories to haunt him and he smiled, thinking it was all worth it. He just needed to get it out in the open, and he did. “I’m ready, too. Let’s face the music.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this hasn't been proofread yet. Be gentle with the Canadian lass, here. 
> 
> At this time, I am still wondering whether I'll continue this story. I like it as it is, but perhaps people would like more? 
> 
> Either way, if you got this far, thank you for reading.


End file.
